2008-11-05 - The Inimical Vomitorium
L'hnnar waves a hand while speaking, "He'll behave while you look over him. And this time his wounds weren't self-inflicted, believe it or not. The three individuals I mentioned brought all of this poodoo on themselves and gave no other options. Actually, Kalira," Dash grits his teeth momentarily and then loosens them, "Leex is a hero. If it was not for his actions, /everyone/ would have died." Leex Sleezo bats at the woman's tender touch with his hand, but in the end relents and squeezes more drugs into his overburdened veins. He knows how to party. At the mention of 'hero', however, the Rodian glances up, dumbfounded. "I see," Kalira says, openly studying Leex then reaches out, eyes the IV-drip bag that's attached to the line running into the Rodian and says, "You've had enough of this," and sets about capping off the free flowing drugs into the Rodian's system. "It's hard to reconcile Hero with attempted assassination of Pesiro," she says before she does a careful triage of the Rodian before setting to work. "Leex and I are going to have a very," L'hnnar pauses, though only momentary, "very long "talk" concerning his actions with Pesiro. He has caused much trouble in regards to many things with that situation. I also have much to discuss with President Nonobi because of it. Thankfully he and I have a great rapport." vreeeeEEEEEEEE No sooner does Kalira remove the Rodian's IV than the alien slowly lifts his arm to reveal a rapidly-charging wrist-flamer pointed at her nose. "Put it back... I gots the hurts," Leex Sleezo warns, scowling. "I know you've got the "hurts", Leex," Dash begins, "but you also have a duty to protect Miss Valen in any situation. That means from yourself as well. If you can't, I will have to myself." Kalira's eyes gleam as she stares past the wrist-mounted weapon into the eyes of the Rodian, "Put it down," she says calmly. "You want to kill yourself? Do it on your own time. The more of that junk you pump into your system the harder it'll be for me to figure out what the heck is wrong with you in the first place. You're tanked to the gills and back. and any pain you're experiencing is purely psychosomatic. So knock it off. Or, you can shoot me and I guarantee that you'll hurt a hell of a lot more when I'm done with you. I'll chain you to a biobed and drain your body of every single drug and additive you've inflicted upon yourself - without an ounce of pain killer to take the edge off." A simple consular shuttle joins the myriad of other ships within the bowels of the MC90, slipping into docking clamps in a smooth, controlled motion. Perhaps the only smooth thing that will come of its arrival, for, long before the loading ramp lowers, a broken boy soprano rises from inside, in a horribly off-key rendition of a popular drinking ballad. To its butchered tune, an unfortunate bodyguard, armored in black, bearing a cape made of one Liam L'hnnar, who in the interest of a family-appropriate rating, is poo doo-faced, and from whose mouth the monstrosity of a song runs. "But if you desire her fair, with fetching long hair.. Try a Corellian dau-- Father!" "And Miss Valen and ah!--" Liam wobbles in his perch, only the guard's grip around his legs keeping him from toppling backwards as the boy points ahead at Leex. "It's the Rodian ass-assathin! Quick!" A kick to the guard's midsection. "Catch him!" The Rodian drops his wrist only to rip out a blaster and point it underhand at Kalira's belly. "Dash! Daaaaaaaaaaaaaash!" shrieks Leex Sleezo. He shakes visibly and his pistol clatters in his palms. He's clearly having a very hard time controlling himself, and one might easily deduce from the constant repositioning of the alien's weapon to various vital points of Kalira's body that he's doing everything in his power not to fire, much as he'd like to. "DAAAAAAAAASH!?" "Put your blaster away, Leex. Right now!" snaps the Viceroy. And while the red-clad soldiers behind him are already ready to go, the elder L'hnnar does not bring his own weapon into his clutches. "The longer you prolong this the longer until you're better and able to go catch your fixes." Kalira grasps Leex's wrist in a surprisingly firm grip even as she's reaching for the auto-injector and thumbing the dial to increase the sedative dose to something strong enough to knock out a bantha at full temper. Relatively speaking, of course. It's some hasty mental math, unable to completely calculate the sheer amount of drugs already in the Rodian's system in comparison the drugs in the injection. She errs on the side of caution and aims for 'doped to the eye-balls' instead of 'comatose'. "Whoah," Liam wiggles aback his valiant mount, wrapping his arms around his armored neck for stability. "Quick! Do-do.. something. I've seenth that Rodian-- wait, wait.. are there.. two of them? Two Rodians! Oh, banthas! They both haveth blasters!" Pink to the cheeks as a schoolgirl with her first crush, the boy raises a hand to grope at the air somewhere far above the Rodian's head. "Here, little blaster.. cometh to-- Father!" With the attention span of a fish. "Father! You have got to try roba steak! Ith... delithious!" Quietly, Dash leans his head down and murmurs, "Bring the boy here," into the comlink mounted on his breastplate. Then, spotting the exchange between Rodian and woman, the Viceroy steps back and has somehow unslung and brought his SK-9 into each gauntlet. COMBAT: Dash L'hnnar wields his BlasTech SK-9 Heavy Repeater. Leex Sleezo, in fact, has had far more than his fair share of overpowered liquid pain-killers. As Kalira depresses the plunger with a soft HISSSS, the Rodian's eyes roll back into his head; he sways back, back, baaaaaack, FORWARD! SPLAAAAAAAAAGGGGGGGGGG The Rodian slumps forward toward Kalira and absolutely vomits his guts out. Chunky, yellow stewish chum spews from his sucker-mouth and is likely to shower the doctor in sticky goo. At the same moment, Liam snatches his flimsily-held blaster and he sinks toward the ground, already passed out. COMBAT: Leex Sleezo puts away his Masterwork BlasTech DL-42 Blaster Pistol. Leex Sleezo gives his Masterwork BlasTech DL-42 Blaster Pistol to Liam. With a crisp nod, the armored bodyguard does as instructed, and despite vocal protests from the boy - "Quit moving so much!" and "Arresth the Rodians!" When a blaster does indeed go flying, it goes not for the boy's groping hand, but for his face with a sharp slap of metal against flesh, then clanks to the floor. Completing his task to fruition, the unfortunate babysitter deposits the now wobbly and bloody-nosed Liam beside the Corellian Viceroy. "Father--" the child begins with a groan, trying to hold back the blood with one hand, the other looking for stability on the man's arm. "I don't feel so.." GHUAAAAAAHHHG! As much as the boy would sing praises of the fine meat, it does not taste nearly as delicious on the return trip, nor does it look particularly appetizing, oozing off once-pristine and polished armor. While species might have their many differences, vomit, in all its forms, looks surprisingly similar. "By the Force," Viceroy L'hnnar says with disdain, "that is one of the most disgusting things I have ever seen." But, then again, Valen did bring it upon herself by giving the Rodian /too/ much of what he wanted. L'hnnar cannot help but smirk and mentally chuckle. Still, he adds, "Yuck." And then the man's son arrives, and as he begins to speak, the elder L'hnnar's irritation is evident upon his visage. Brows are furroed, eyes are narrowed, and a gauntlet is grasping the child's neck as he brings him close. That, however, was a bad idea. Just as Liam is brought around to face Dash, a torrential downpour of manchild vomit explodes like a city hydrant. Yellows, greens, and biley browns erupt and spatter against the Viceroy's armor and cape; various fragments -- chunks, rather -- of the vomit ricochet off the breastplate and speckle the man's neck and face in a barfy mural of one highly angered man. And then there is a *vathump* sound in the pit of his stomach; lips purse, cheecks widen, and... It's chewed back. Of all the things she's done since starting her training as a doctor. From dissections to surgeries, from clinic to labs to treating anything from an ingrown toenail to emergency surgery to prevent folks like Pesiro from dying. She's seen a lot. Clean - pristine - surgical suites with the latest most advanced technology available at a murmur of a word, tools presented by medical droid or by efficient medical staff. Perfection. The stark contrast of her surgical internship attached to a medical aid unit, doing meatball surgery while splotched with mud and blood and worse. If she sometimes seems unflappable, that would be why. It's rather redundant to freak out over some massive trauma when she's had to sort wounded soldiers and determine which ones are going to die because there isn't enough staff or supplies or time to save them all. Focus on the one in front of you - because to do anything else is to risk losing them all. The irony of it all, is that she's a germophobe. Overly fond of her own personal space and not particularly adept at the professional bedside manner that is required to be a very good physician. She's a surgeon, a general practitioner, but not a therapist. The messy emotional crap irks her, not intrigues her. When Leex sways back dramatically and then forward she doesn't have enough time to react to get out of the way and he spews vomit all over her. She is frozen for perhaps the first time in years. Standing rather shocked motionless and her eyes blink slowly around the yellowish splatters that paint across her face, hair and down to her toes and around in a splatter pattern on the floor. She hears Liam's sympathetic-retching response and her head turns ever so slightly to the side in time to see Liam's contribution to the vomitorium. Blue eyes narrow ever so slightly as she fixes a look at the elder L'hnnar that gleams a warning that if he loses it, she may well end up joining the rest. A rather shallow cautious breath is drawn through slightly parted lips, an explosive exhale through her nose and she says - with as much dignity as she can muster while coated in yellowish vomit from head to toe: "I believe now would be a good time to hose down the entire area, the patients. Possibly consider venting the entire room to vacuum to sanitize it entirely." "No," Dash says, still irritated, "I thought I'd just leave it here and enjoy this damn smell!" The Viceroy snorts and raises each gauntlet, wipes an eye with either, and then flicks them outwardly as they lower; an all too familiar *slapt* resonates as emesis is flung to the deck. Leex Sleezo lays in his atmealish foulitude, utterly passed out. Kalira takes another one of those shallow cautious breaths, another exhale made through her nose, her jaw clenching hard enough that she's grinding her teeth together and carefully - oh so carefully - not saying any of what runs through her head. Her attention shifts towards Leex, "I can't treat him until he's cleaned up. I can't do anything until I'm clean again. Liam needs to get cleaned up then sleep it off. Now please, for the love of what's left of my sanity, tell me you have real water bathing facilities on this ship or I swear I'm going to throw myself out of the airlock." "Sergeant," Dash calls. No, spits. Vehemently. "Have this boy cleaned up and locked in his quarters. Block his shuttle and do not let him back on until I've given the authorization. Also have him," L'hnnar motions to the Rodian, "cleaned up and given a room to rest for the night." He looks to Kalira for a moment and then nods. "Yes. I have a refresher with actual water." With a final retch, a sizable chunk of once perfectly-good steak -splops- wetly along with the rest of its brethren on the docking bay floor, and Liam braves a glance upward to witness the beautiful painting that his digestive system had created. Oh, what a blend of colors and lines. Oh! The emotion conveyed. The stern features of the elder L'hnnar, accented by the fine lines of drying puke. It elicits something else entirely in the boy. His knees unsteady, his lips quiver in abject horror. "Oh, Force.. Father! I-- I..." a spot of black appears in the fine navy silk of his pants, growing steadily. ".. have to pee." But, with a firm hand of a dutiful guard on his shoulder, the boy is led away with his soggy pants, and his shame. Kalira manages a nod, "I would be MOST grateful to have access to that," she says in what has to be the most POLITE tone of voice ever. Category:November 2008 RP Logs